


We Have an Eternity

by FishiestCatfish



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Depressive themes, Dreamtale, Haventale, InkTale, M/M, POV Second Person, Ship, Undersail, aftertale, long fanfiction, mild violence, underswap - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-15
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-05-19 00:52:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14863542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FishiestCatfish/pseuds/FishiestCatfish
Summary: Decades have passed since the defenders of creativity and positivity have had their fallout. Neither have worked together, nor spoken, nor even acknowledge each others' existence. However, when the world is as bleak as ever, and the two are forced to cross paths, maybe now's a better time than ever to work together.





	1. An Old Aquaintance

****

##  **Part One: An Old Acquaintance**

* * *

  
  
You feel a yawn begin to form as you arch your spine into a locked, curved shape as you hear your bones crack and rattle against one another. Sighing, you run your gloved hands along the smooth curve of your cheek. How long were you asleep? It felt like ages. Hopefully it wasn’t as long, you note to yourself. The multiverse couldn’t afford for it to be.

Your mouth feels dry, and an aching tension lingers in your vertebrae. Stifling a groan, you wince as the stiffness gives you a dull reminder of an unfriendly memory. You can recall feeling even more rigid, the time you spent turned to stone haunts your mind. Just the thought of such a sensation is enough to make you get to your feet in an attempt to shake the feeling.

  
However, it does not take long for your spirits to lift. Your relatively new outfit gives you a childlike sense of pride as you hear the sound of your boots hitting the chilled, packed dirt path beneath you, your cape making a soft, stirring noise as it blows behind you in the breeze. Pure joy fills you as you reflect upon the growth you’ve undergone over the past few centuries.

  
You aren’t regularly one to self-reflect, but the feel of the crisp morning air and the bright, joyful sunlight gives you a sense of peace and awakening. It just feels nice to self-meditate, and you allow yourself to, knowing you won’t have time to later. There are people to defend.

  
Oh right. You come to the realization that you are a guardian. A guardian that is needed to defend the multiverse from misery and despair. Sighing, you accept that your moment of relaxation has come to it’s end. A sickening feeling comes to your gut, and you know something is not as it should be, as always. You allow yourself to focus on your aura, trying to find where the feeling is coming from. It is a nearby Aftertale universe giving off the strong sense of negativity. The strength of the feeling is weak enough to tell you that your brother is not there, but not taking action would only give the prince of negativity a chance to escalate things.

  
You had a good rest in the forest of Haventale’s Mt.Ebott, but now it is time for you to go. Channeling your energy, you summon your staff, its sky blue handle absorbing the chill from the air and reflecting sunlight off of its smooth, shiny surface. The reflected light soon turns to shimmering, as the staff develops a curve and lengthens. The handle gains a golden grip, and vines to elegantly wrap around its now-auburn surface. You are no longer holding a staff, but an ethereal bow. Slinging it around your back, you quickly teleport to the universe in need.

  
The buckles on your outfit jingle as your boots make impact with the pitch black floor. Though you cannot see it, the floor is there, along with the rest of the pitch black room. Taking a moment to observe your surroundings, you become lost in thought. Nothing but pitch black, you think to yourself, I couldn’t spend even a week here, no wonder Geno Sanses go insane trapped in this place. Only when you hear the cold, shrill chuckles of a distant voice are you shaken from thought, a chill making its way down your spine. As you look, you see a round, huddled figure in one corner, white with red splotches and, from what you can tell, rocking itself back and forth. The laughs come from it. They are not laughs of joy, but rather malice. A malice that you are all too painfully familiar with.  
That malice is why you are here.

  
Gingerly, you attempt to approach the figure, gently placing your feet down. While you walk, you hear the laughter turn into screeches, cries, and even begging. As you get close, the figure does not move. It is a Sans, as expected, and the light in his one good eye socket is trained on the tail of the scarf resting by his bloodied slippers. You touch his shoulder as he begins stop making any noise. Then, after a few moments, a croaked question escapes his mouth. You try desperately to understand, but the words are lost in his despaired, pained, and hushed tone. Politely, you ask him to repeat the question. After a burdened sigh, he tries again, slightly louder.

  
“Do you know what it’s like?” he asks.

  
You know you could pretend to not understand. After all, he hadn’t specified what feeling or scenario he referred to knowing the pain of. However, telling him you did not know what he meant would be a pathetic facade. You know what he feels, and in fact, you DO know how it stings from a first-hand experience. Oh, how you wish you could avoid the question, lie, anything to prevent the flood of emotion that would hit when recalling such pain. The pain of watching a loved one go through awful things, and being helpless to stop it. 

  
On the other hand, you know avoiding the question won’t help make this better. It commonly works more efficiently to open up, something you’ve learned from centuries of experience. You take a deep breath, swallowing the burning feeling in a throat that doesn’t exist, pushing back tears and keeping a level head. When you are sure your voice won’t shake, you finally begin to speak.

  
“I do,” you begin, “and it hurts. I know. I can’t pretend I’m going through this entrapment or isolation, but I do know how you feel.” For a moment, you pause, noticing with a pang of sadness that the Sans has begun to cry. You fight to get the rest of the words out, anguish threatening to overtake you. You still manage. “You love your brother very much. I know that. I know it hurts to watch him die.” Taking a moment to think of what you’ll say next, you sit next to the depraved skeleton, his eye socket still transfixed on the dust-covered scarf. Gathering yourself, you continue to tell him of your past, your issues, and the overwhelming dreads you face every day, though the story is hard to force out, almost as if it’s fighting to stay in your mouth.  
  
As you tell the Sans of your struggles, he begins to stop crying. First the tears slow, then reduce to only a few, then stop all together. All that is left in his eye socket is pure desolation. Still, he’s not crying. It’s a start. You, on the other hand, continue to fight to keep it together. Even once the story is over, it feels like a battle to stay focused, to stay clear-minded, and to not collapse. Then, dead silence. Neither of you make a sound, and for a moment you aren’t sure whether that makes things better or worse. Before you can decide, the Sans looks up for the first time since you have arrived, the dim light of his eye socket now fixed on you.  
  
“Who are you?” he asks. You’re used to the question, and can gauge exactly how to answer. Another skill you didn’t perfect right away. Forcing a smile, you return his gaze and prepare to answer. Right before you state your name, however, you are interrupted by a voice.  
  
“Have you got this under control?”  
  
That voice. The familiarity. Hearing it causes you to gasp, and for a brief moment, you struggle to breathe. You don’t look. You don’t move. You would have been fine never hearing this voice again. It’s not evil, but it’s not good either. At least, not as good as you had once thought. Realizing that the first time had hurt enough, but this? God, please be my imagination, you think to yourself, please don’t let it be him. Your thoughts are rapid, and you struggle to pull yourself together. After what feels like forever, you finally rotate your head slightly, stiffly, to confirm your worries. Standing there, you see exactly what you feared. A short, colorful skeleton wearing a long, brown scarf, a singular ink blotch on his right cheek, and one giant, iconic paintbrush. It’s the monster you once called a friend, and he’s staring right at you, discomfort filling his gaze.  
  
You’ve come, after years of avoidance, face to face with Ink once more.  
  
Your posture stiffens, each bone being straightened and tensed as you work to keep all feelings under control. But how can you? Of all the emotions you feel right now, anger, resent, disgust, even melancholy, one holds strong. Just one feeling sticks out above the rest. Heartache. Your chest feels heavy, and you begin to breathe unevenly. Oh god, why won’t he leave already? Then you remember the Sans in desperate need, sitting right next to you. You cannot help him with this menace standing right there. It is time for you to be firm. Clenching your jaw, you force yourself to look at Ink.  
  
As your eye sockets meet, you almost lose your stern demeanor. Come on, Dream, you say to yourself, he’s not what’s important right now. Deal with this later, you have a person to help. With that, you are finally able to speak, even if not much.  
  
“Yes.” you growl, the tone cold and unforgiving, just as intended. “I’m doing just fine, as a matter of fact. The last thing we need here is you.”  
  
Did you see that correctly? There’s no way, and yet you’re so sure. It was brief, but evident. No, it had to be, you’re certain you saw it. Ink showed a look of hurt. Unfortunately, the look more likely scathed you worse.  
  
After a moment, Ink sighed, looked away, then responded. “No need to be short,” he muttered. “I was only making sure this situation was being defused properly.”  
  
Properly? Was he implying that you couldn’t do missions on your own? What right does he have to judge when he himself are willing to watch anything happen with no qualms? Last you checked, the only one truly helping the people of the AUs was you. Not Ink, nor anyone else as of late. What was he even doing here, didn’t he know this was your job? Your peripheral vision reveals a bright yellow glow emanating from your cheekbones. Great. Now you’re blushing with anger. You’ve had enough.  
  
“Just leave.” you muster, a hint of outrage creeping into your voice. “We both know who the real defender is here. You have no intentions to help others, you’ve made that clear. Just go.”  
  
Ink opens his mouth, about to argue, but for some unknown reason, stops. Instead, he heaves a sigh, casts one last regretful look at you, and reaches for his paintbrush. He hesitates, but you ignore his presence, and turn back to the victim in need. However, while you’re expecting him to look forlorn, you are instead met with a wide-eyed smile, his gaze penetrating any comfort you had. It’s unnerving, and you’re cautious at the sight of it. Then, something resonates from deep within the skeleton. It’s more laughing, only this time, the pain is gone. All you can hear is pure insanity. The chuckles first come quietly, then louder, then even louder. You resist the urge to block out the noise, or worse yet, leave. The loss of control is so evident, however. So painful. Reminds you of too much. It’s a miracle you’re able to hold your ground.  
  
Shrill laughter continues to get lost into the depths of the void as the Sans fights to get a hold of himself. Right as you are about to break, however, his voice becomes hoarse, and the giggles quiet into a hushed wheezing. This is your chance. You have to figure out how you can help. Voice shaking, you allow yourself to talk to the Sans. “If I m-may ask, what d-do you find so f-funny?”  
  
He goes silent at once, the smile on the skeleton drops into a blank look, as if it’s the dumbest question in the world. As if you should know. It makes you squirm.   
  
“W-well? I-I’m only curious, i-is all.” you clarify.  
  
Enthusiastically this time, he answers your question. “It’s just…. we spend our whole lives thinkin’ there’s something greater out there. Some forces, good or evil, balancing our world, calling the shots, and bein’ all powerful.” He stops and casts an eager smirk at you. “I always thought that these forces were proof at a greater power, proof that I would never accomplish my plans of stopping time itself.” He pauses, seeing your expression. “What? Yeah, even as determined as I was, I always had a feelin’ I’d be stopped.” Once again, he goes silent before bursting into more fits of barking laughter.  
  
You urge him to go on, to finish his thought, but you aren’t so sure you want to hear the rest. Something about his tone deeply unsettles you, like a crow’s caw during nightfall. You have to hear the rest though. It’s your responsibility as a guardian.  
  
Taking a deep breath, he halts his laughter and gains a raspy, malicious tone to his voice. “But now that I’ve met these so called ‘forces’, I’ve found that they’re as clueless and helpless and pathetic as ME.”  
  
This makes you tense up, a ominous feeling lurking in the foreground of your mind. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Ink freeze in his tracks, paintbrush posed to create an exit, but stopped in mid-air. The insane skeleton clearly has developed a sense of overconfidence, but for once, that’s not a good thing.  
  
Not when the skeleton wants to end his own world.  
  
Despite fighting the urge, you are unable to stop yourself from taking two steps backward. The jingle of your boots alerts the Sans, however, and his eyelights return and become directed at you. You gulp, and prepare to make a retort to diffuse the situation.  
  
“W-well, um… Geno, is it?” The skeleton nods. “We aren’t… helpless… there are just several of us. With any group of people comes arguments and disagreements, surely you know that!” As you finish your sentence, Ink nods in agreement, his paintbrush reattached to his back.  
  
Geno barked a loud laugh, before breaking into eerie chuckles. “Oh no, don’t try to lie to me. I can see EXACTLY what’s going on.” He then winked. “You 'gods’ don’t have everything figured out. There is no plan. Everything that happens-” He gestures around himself. “this is ALL spontaneous to you! So if I fight back… you have no clue what I’ll do.” His grin becomes wider, stretching across his face in a look of pure madness.  
  
You sigh. He has a point, but then again, he isn’t the only one who has had this train of thought before. “While that may be true, you aren’t the only one.” You cast him a look of warning. “We have had others say similar things, and I assure you, all of us are far from helpless! I don’t advise fighting against us. Besides, we just want to help you! Most of us, anyway…”  
  
Geno, not uttering a response, stands up. His eye sockets are dark and hollow, his grin is unmoving, and his face is pointed to the floor a few inches in front of his feet. He summons a bone in his hand, and then looks up, his non-melted eye glowing. Then, he allows only a single sentence to escape him.  
  
_“I don’t care what you advise.”_


	2. A Memory of Him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER: This chapter uses some interpretive creativity to fill in the blanks about what happened in Ink and Dream's past. I, in no way, claim to know what actually happened, this is just my own guess on a possible scenario based on what I do know has been revealed. Do not take this as canon to anything outside of this fanfiction. Thank you!

 

##  **Part Two: A Memory of Him  
**

* * *

The very next thing you know, you are being launched into combat. A single gaster blaster appears behind you, ready to fire, and you shut your eyes tight, ready to endure the hit. It doesn't come.

You open your eyes, and are met with Ink standing in front of you, a shield painted to block the blast. Straightening yourself a bit, you mutter at him. "I could have handled that." He does nothing but scoff in reply. Before you can continue, a bone narrowly misses your foot, and you turn to see Geno right behind you. Drawing your bow, you attempt to pin him to the floor, being careful not to harm him. However, he simply avoids your attacks, seeing them coming and dodging out of the way each time you fire an arrow. You clench your teeth from the tension.

Ink, frustrated, lets out a groan. "You can't solve everything with pacifism, Dream!" he says, clearly exasperated. He charges forward, nearly managing to land a few solid hits on the skeleton. You watch on wordlessly as the two fight, closely matched, but neither manages to harm the other. Ink swings his brush, only for it to be met with a bone to block it. Geno attempts to fire a blaster, only for Ink to become a puddle and narrowly dodge. They appear to be at a stalemate. It isn't a surprise; Ink isn't a fighter, and you know that.

After a few minutes, clear exhaustion shows in both skeletons, as their breath becomes heavy and their crowns begin to drip with sweat. You know it's only a matter of time before one caves. Geno's attacks become slower, while Ink becomes a bit clumsier. Your breath catches in your throat as Ink trips on the tail of his scarf and falls, becoming pinned by Geno.

A raspy chuckle comes from the skeleton, and soon he is triumphantly howling with laughter. He lifts his foot and stomps down HARD on Ink's arm, ensuring he's fully pinned. Ink lets out a grunt of pain as the sole of Geno's slipper slams down on his forearm. He glares up defiantly at Geno, trying to pull away, but with each failed attempt to struggle away, Geno only cackles harder.

You step forward to help, but hesitate. "Why help him?" you ask yourself. He's not your friend, he's certainly no hero, and you aren't quite sure he'd do the same for anyone else. Yet. . . he did do it. He did it for you. As much as you hate to admit it, you can't bring yourself to harm your opponent, yet you can't disarm Geno peacefully alone. You need Ink, and you are just going to have to swallow your pride and allow a brief alliance. So you do.

You rush forward to Ink's aid, and block Geno's attempt at a final blow with the handle of your bow. Geno responds with a loud yell, jumping back in surprise. As you help Ink to his feet, you mutter under your breath, "This is temporary. . . but I need your help. Distract him, will you?" For a brief, moment, Ink looks as if he's about to tease you for asking. However, he clearly thinks better of it, as his expression turns serious, and he nods. Taking Broomy in one hand, he once again advances towards Geno, attempting to catch him off guard.

As you take a few steps back to get a good spot for aiming, you watch Ink's moves carefully. It's clear that with the strategy in mind, he has altered his attacks to become more infuriatingly tedious rather than dangerous. For a moment, you catch yourself admiring his ability to adjust to new ways of fighting. However, the moment you catch yourself praising him, you shake your head clear of the thought, and draw your bow one more time, aiming it at the scarf around Geno's neck. With a few quick, clean shots, Geno is thoroughly pinned to the ground, clearly caught off guard. Ink, realizing the fight is over, looks up at you and smiles, giving a double thumbs-up. You stubbornly ignore him, walking back over to the two.

Geno, affixed to the floor, kicks his feet, screeching in protest. He calls you blind, cheap, and a sad excuse of protector. He says you couldn't possibly understand how important his plans are. Those things don't get to you, you've heard them all before. What gets to you is the utter pain this skeleton is in. You kneel down next to him, regretfully conscious of Ink watching your every move, and stroke your hand over his skull in a desperate attempt to calm him. You muster the most gentle voice you can, and attempt to soothe him, at least enough for him to stop kicking and yelling.

"Hey," you start, taking a quick moment to shush him before continuing. "I told you before, I do know how you feel. This is awful, and there isn't much I can do, I'll give you that." As you pause to think through your words cautiously, Geno glares at you with a deep sense of loathing. You flinch, but continue on nonetheless. "I can't tell you what the future has in store for you. I can make an educated guess, but telling you may bring more harm than good. But please, you have to listen to me when I say this WILL end. I know you don't think letting them live through this is fair. . . but if you asked them, I know they would say it is. I know your friends and family have the strength to tough the pain until their happy end. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Geno's glare falters and he glances away, appearing to almost be considering your words. After a painful few moments, he turns back to you. However, instead of hate in his gaze, he has tears streaking down his face. "I just don't want to watch any longer," he whispers, agony filling his voice. You sigh, pulling the arrows pinning him out of the ground and lifting him into a tight embrace. Internally, you aren't sure if the hug is to comfort him or you, but it seems to calm Geno down, as his face eventually dries of all tears. Ink, still only observing, gives a look that can only be described as strangely impressed. Firmly, you tell yourself you don't care what Ink thinks of it, despite the slight emotion welling in your chest.

From that moment, the mission wraps up much like it always does. With the Sans calmed, you are able to talk calmly with him, stabilize his mental state, and then give your parting advice. Within half an hour, you finish the job, giving Geno one final hug before stepping through a portal back to Haventale. Bittersweet pride tainted with sadness is all you can feel, knowing you've done everything you can do to help him.

Finally, you have a moment alone with your thoughts.

The trees still rustle softly, and the breeze continues to blow as gently as before. Looking up at the sky, you notice it is around noon. That took longer than expected. No matter, it was worth it. You approach a nearby tree and lean against it, slowly slumping to the ground. The rough bark feels oddly nice, and you exhale, at peace very briefly before a voice interrupts your calm state.

"It's been a while since that's happened, huh?"

Jolting upright, you whip your head around to face none other than Ink. Did he follow you here? Staring at him in utter disbelief and resentment, you fold your arms to your chest. What should you even say to that? What made him think you wanted to see him here? Hadn't it been obvious you were nothing but furious with him? That's what you tell yourself, at least. It's what you hope is true, he deserves the anger, though it's becoming harder to deny your feelings are a bit more complicated than that. It doesn't make you happy to hold a grudge against anyone, as much as you feel it's necessary. Still, you are above all else still upset with him, and are more than willing to make that clear.

Your mind, however, does not get the chance to develop a retort before it is interrupted by Ink, who continues to speak. "Look. . . hear me out at least, alright? You know I wouldn't have followed you here if I didn't have something I really needed to say." He's looking at you with an expression you have never seen on him before. Is that pain, remorse, or apprehension? At that very moment, you wish more than anything that you could read Ink like you could anyone with a soul. Curtly, you nod, signaling for him to continue. He heaves a shaky breath, sitting down in front of you and holding your gaze.

"You know, that was incredible, what you did back there. I had forgotten how well you could-" He cuts off, clearly seeing your impatient expression. Never in your life did you expect to see Ink looking so timid, but he does at this exact moment. He looks uncharacteristically desperate, almost seeming to care what you think. It is jarring to see. After a pause, he continues. "I just don't understand why you're clearly so resentful! We used to make an amazing team, and we were such good friends. Just. . . what happened?"

That comment is enough to make your jaw drop. 'What happened'? Voice cold as ice, you reply, "You mean to tell me you don't remember a thing?"

Ink dips his head in embarrassment, his eyes darting away from yours. His cheekbones become bright with a rainbow glow and he smiles weakly. "I. . . don't exactly have the best memory." Quite clearly, he forces himself to chuckle a little.

Grating your teeth, you scowl at him in outrage. Suddenly, it's as if you're brought back to that very day you and Ink parted ways. That very day you fell out as a team.

That very day you lost your friend.

"I'll be more than happy to remind you," you begin, your voice eerily quiet. It's as if something has taken over you entirely, and you can no longer control your temper. The feeling is foreign to you, but you cannot stop yourself from continuing as your voice slowly raises in volume. "So you're saying you don't remember our last mission? The mission that you SHOWED me how utterly empty you are inside!? You don't remember any of that? How about this, do you remember the Science!Sans you let die, or the broken family and CHAOS that was left behind because a young, innocent monster's life was left in YOUR hands, and you chose to waste it!?" Your voice has risen to a near screech, but you are unable to calm yourself down any amount. How could he forget? How could he let someone die, impact an AU so greatly, and not even remember that god damn moment? Your cheeks feel soaked, and you come to realize that you are crying.

Ink looks utterly taken aback, and you divert your eyes away, unable to look him. He tries to speak up, clearly fumbling over his own words, but to your surprise instead of Ink's voice, it's your own that rings through the woods, the tone akin to a grieving mother or a man who had just lost his best friend. "I have so many questions for you. Oh, I remember it CLEARLY. Tell me Ink, when you were given the choice of the AU's story itself or the people within it, what drove you to make your decision? Was it the father, desperately pleading for his own son's life? Or- or was it the son himself, who was fearful and resigned like a sheep in a slaughterhouse? Or maybe, just maybe, it was the freaking infant brother he had in his arms!? And tell me Ink, when Blue and I got to watch that poor, innocent kid dust in front of his family, was the lack of empathy from you a way of distancing yourself? When we SOBBED watching his family and community get torn apart, was it an attempt to show strength that drove you to tell us that in the grand scheme of things, that child didn't matter? That only what the creators wanted DID?!? Well Ink, it's been centuries, and I would love to know. I would love to know the answer to all of these questions. Most of all, however, I want to know how you could DARE to forget what you did, and how you could DARE to forget that child you slaughtered without so much as an apology!"

Blinking the tears out of your eyes, you look back at him, only to see that the skeleton sitting across from you has gone entirely pale. You stare at each other in silence, your breathing uneven, remembering the day all too well. Ink's face is twisted with a complex range of emotions. It takes him a minute to muster up a response, and he speaks so quietly you can barely hear him.

"It's certainly sounding more and more familiar," he mumbles. He fiddles with the end of his scarf hurriedly, anxiety clearly showing. That's also something you had never really seen from Ink. "Dream, I have no idea what I could say. You would never just forgive what had happened, I know that. I just hadn't remembered, and I'm sorry! Hell, I'm even sorry for the choice I made seeing the impact it had, but at the time I couldn't have possibly been expected to care-"

"So you admit you don't even feel regret?" you inquire, your gaze hardening. "Ink, do yourself a favor, and get out of my sight."

He laughs nervously, and looks away. "You can't be serious, I don't even get to explain-"

"No, you don't. I've heard enough. Leave."

His eyes fill with regret, but he stands back up and nods politely to you. "Fine. . . I understand. If you're ever willing to hear me out though-"

"I assure you that will not be an outcome. Go."

He winces, grabbing Broomy and painting a portal, glancing miserably at you before hopping through and disappearing.

You think to yourself, staring blankly at the puddle of paint, tears still running down your face. What had come over you? Why does Ink seem so much more complex? Most of all, why, despite his clear effort to set things right, did you feel like you couldn't let him speak, and why does it feel like a betrayal that you really want to do so? You attempt to sort out these thoughts and your observations in your head, but all that comes of it is a jumbled mess of grief and confusion. It hurts so badly, your chest aching and your throat burning. You attempt to shake it off, to get back on your feet. There are still people in need of help, you remind yourself, and you have to be there to do so. No matter how hard you try though, you can't. You can't get yourself to stand back up.

Much like that day in which your friendship fell apart, all you can bring yourself to do is bury your face in your knees and weep.


	3. It's Not About You

##  **Part Three: It's Not About You  
**

 

* * *

  
  
After the debacle between Ink and you, you aren't able to get back on your feet until the next morning. The memories had been a bit much on you. Even now, in the late morning of the next day, you feel as if you want to vomit, despite not even having a stomach. Telling yourself that the disgust is at Ink isn't more than a simple lie. The fact is, you're disgusted by yourself as well. Disgusted that despite everything, you can't seem to stop thinking of different ways that conversation could have gone.

Why can't you just be satisfied with the way things had gone? If it were a matter of the emotional strain of the conversation, that would be one thing. The fact is, however, that you have other reasons for your train of thought. The churning in your abdomen isn't from a regret of where the conversation went, but rather a regret of how it ended. You wish, despite not knowing why, that you had only let him speak. That you could have talked to him a bit longer. Not only do you want answers, you crave solutions.

That hunger for resolution alone is enough to make you growl at yourself, balling up a fist tightly and pressing it against your head in frustration. You shouldn't care! He made his choice, he showed you how much life really matters to him! Talking would only serve to give him a chance to plea innocent. Forgiving him would only be risking the safety of others. You shouldn't do that. No matter how many times you tell yourself that however, you still can't fight the urge to want to see him one more time and try the conversation again.

You shake your head, raising to your feet. No, he had been negligent and cruel, you can't let selfish thoughts distract you. There are still more people to help! In fact, there always is, and there always would be! Slowly and carefully, you take a deep, shaky breath to clear your head. Another rescue mission would be a good way to clear your mind. This time, Ink wouldn't be there to cause a disruption, and you could focus on the person in need.

That's what you're here for, after all. It doesn't matter what you want, how your heart aches, or what wish you for most in the world. The truth had always been the same: you were created to serve as protection. Positivity is your purpose, and you will fulfill that purpose to the best of your ability. If Ink gets in the way of that, then you have to make that sacrifice. This is more important, and you can't be selfish.

Alright, today was the day. You can redo yesterday. You can do better.

Focusing once more on your aura, you seek out any hints of abnormal misery. To your dismay, there is a great number of universes in need. There is no indication to why, but dozens are in need. The timing is about as bad as a coincidence could be, as you aren't at your best. This left no time to sit and gripe. You have to hurry, to help as many as you can.

"It would be easier if you still had the team," you think to yourself before you can even stop the thought. Instantly, you regret it, snapping back at yourself. "You don't need to be in a team that hurts others! That's counterproductive. Now isn't the time to get caught up in this, you have a job to do!"

With that final mental note, you're off, heading for a nearby Undersail, which is where the most negativity seems to be coming from. You arrive on a ship, ungracefully falling from a lack of balance almost instantly, the swaying of a boat on water unfamiliar to you. What a great way to start the mission. The ship seems to have a slight breach in negativity, but below it, in the water, you can't feel anything other than despair. The surrounding area remains empty aside from two figures, who are both watching over the side of the boat, radiating worry. You instantly recognize them as this AU's version of the skeleton brothers. Cautiously, you approach, wanting to understand the cause of all this emotion. They don't seem to notice you until you are directly behind them, both jumping back when noticing the person who had snuck up on them. The taller of the two looks at you, then to his brother with a look of confusion, while his brother only stares at you.

Clearing your throat, you work up the courage to speak, introducing yourself in much the way you had in Aftertale. You politely bow to them and explain your intentions, but get nothing but quiet, wide-eyed looks in return. After a short time, the Papyrus breaks the tension, turning to his brother and throwing his hands up in exasperation, crying out, "Sans, you didn't tell me you cloned yourself!" The Sans only replies with a quiet nod, still staring, seemingly lost in thought. An anxious chuckle escapes you, and you avoid his gaze.

"Ah... yes... I suppose... that's what I am, a clone," you say, hoping it will defuse any suspicion. This mission still had to be quick. Making your way to the side of the boat, you calmly continue on to say, "I'm a special clone, one designed to help. What seems to be the issue?"

Their expressions still full of shock, you get no reply at first. This is pretty common, but at this moment you struggle to repress a groan. This is urgent, and other places are in need as well! There was no time for this stall, yet you could do nothing about it. You wish you could be in two places at once, but that was impossible to any extent without some kind of a team. A team... there it is again. The feeling of wistful regret returns, and you once more find yourself lost in thought.

The smaller brother finally speaks up after a few moments, snapping you out of your thought. "See for yourself," he grumbles, "Somethin' 'fishy' is certainly going on." Though you would normally laugh at the joke, his tone is too grave to warrant relief, and you simply nod. Looking over the side, you gasp in horror, a hand flying to your mouth. The water is black. Not only that, but littered with garbage of every kind. The stench is enough to make you gag, a mix of rotting trash and decaying fish. Clearly, the ocean was dying, and in this AU, that endangered EVERYONE. Even worse, everyone present seemed at a loss as to why it was declining like this.

Desperately you try to focus on your aura again, hoping that it could help in any way. Problem is, you can't focus. Your head is still filled with thoughts, wishes that things were different. That maybe Blue or Ink would have known what to do. You stumble back and shake your head, trying harder to concentrate. There is no time to lose! No matter what you try though, you can't seem to stop drifting into thoughts of regret and heartache. It takes you minutes to be able to find anything productive, and the brothers watch silently as you do so. Once you do however, you get a burst of confidence, pointing towards a source of abnormal misery.

"Set sail for that direction, please," you request with a tone of desperation, "We may find answers." The brothers stare at each other with a look of confoundment, but soon nod and rush into position. The ship creaks into steady movement just moments later, and as you wait to reach your destination, you feel your mind wander again. You let it, allowing your mind to become busy as you stare out at the sky from the side of the ship. A sharp, cold wind breezes past you as you sail, sending an ominous chill through you. Subconsciously, you shudder, unaware of the dread sneaking up on you as you continue to daydream and ponder.

It isn't until the ship jerks to a halt that you snap out of it. Once you do, however, you are instantly greeted with quite the sight. Right in front of you is a portal, which every few moments dumps trash into the ocean below. You try to see where the portal leads, but it's almost pitch black. For some reason, the passage is overwhelmingly full of negativity, so you cannot get closer to it either. Frowning, you turn to the brothers, who look as confused as you do.

"What is THAT!?" the taller one exclaims, staring at it in disbelief. "I've never seen anything like it! Why-"

He is soon cut off by a quieter, colder voice. "How did you know it was here?" the Sans asks, glaring at you with suspicion, "Did you... know about this?" A quiet, rumbling growl can be heard coming from him, and you quickly perk up, shaking your head rapidly.  
"Oh no, definitely not!" you cry out, tensing up. "I can feel emotion! It's how I know who to help! I thought I'd look for excess misery and go to it to look for clues, and it looks like it led us to this! I expected a person though... this is certainly a shock to me. The portal feels a bit too much like-" you cut off, thinking to yourself instead. It feels much like the aura of Nightmare. After a pause, you continue, "It feels... excessively negative."

The Papyrus begins to list off question after question, but his brother seems to relax a little, choosing not to question it further. "Do you... have a plan?" he inquires, giving you an expectant look. "The people down there are gettin' massacred!" As he says this, his eyes dart away, as if this meant more to them then he would like to let on. As he goes quiet, his brother nods in agreement. Shakily, you take some deep breaths. There is a time limit, and you need to figure this out quick. Man, this would have been easier with help.

"Give me a moment to think," you reply with a reassuring tone, "We'll figure this out." Stepping closer to the opening, you study it, taking in every detail you can. The energy it radiates is overpowering, and you fight the urge to run away from it. Despite it being hard on you, you stay, determined to find answers. As you stare at it, however, you find yourself drifting to a different train of thought once more.

There it is again. The intrusive thoughts are back. You can't focus like this, but you have to, it's important! Personal issues are never supposed to get in the way of your job to protect! With low growl, you shut your eyes tight trying to concentrate. "You can't do this alone," your mind offers, "There are too many AUs in need. You aren't good enough to stop them alone. You need help. You need them."

You stumble backwards, dizzy with thoughts and negativity, your mind clouded and confused. What was the right thing to do? What was happening?! Why couldn't you focus?! You couldn't make yourself come closer to the portal once more, as the energy had already nearly drained you. Glancing up, you can see the brothers staring at you expectantly, waiting for some kind of answers. Suddenly, you are hit with immeasurable guilt.

"I need to come back later," you explain apologetically, "I need to figure this out first, something isn't right, and i can't fit the pieces together as things are." This is met with cries of protest. You glance away from them, unable to meet their gaze. If only there were a better, more instantaneous solution. There isn't though. The fact is, you don't know enough, and you aren't able to be around such misery for as long as anyone else can. If you don't prepare better, you will fail.

"You can't just leave it, who knows how much the environment can take!" the Sans cries out, looking frustrated. His brother chimes in as well.

"Yeah, people are getting hurt! You seem friendly, surely you care! There's so much life down there! I'm sure you can do it if you just try!"

The smaller skeleton growls again as you shake your head in defeat. "No, I can't, I need to figure some things out." You look up at them desperately. "But I'll be back as soon as I know what to do! I promise you!"

The Papyrus lets out a whine of concern, and the Sans scoffs, looking at you with contempt. He growls at you, "Yeah, sure you will." He turns to his brother and mumbles, "Come on bro, we'll figure this out on our own."

Your apologies are met with no response, and your head starts to spin from all the anger and grief around you. Not only that, but the thoughts won't go away, and they in fact become more intrusive. What the hell is going on? You need to find out immediately. Help is the only way you are going to be able to fix this situation, as well as your own.

Wobbling on your feet, you hastily open a portal and allow yourself to fall through it, landing on an old, saggy couch that was certainly worse for wear. You hit the pillows with a grunt, allowing the portal to close on itself. Your vision is blurred and distorted, and you can't make out anything around you. It feels as if you are blind, but the atmospheric shift is cathartic, and you let out a sigh of relief. For a moment, it's silence, and you struggle to stay conscious after the strain of the energy in Undersail. At least you can tell you made it safely, auras you recognize around you, and a familiar household greeting you. However, alarm shoots back through you as you realize you can't even bring yourself to sit up. There wasn't time to waste, you can't afford to stay immobilized!

Though difficult, you push yourself to remain as calm as possible. It is safe, and you would be getting help. Your friend would know what to do. There is still time, you only had to hurry. You try and cry out to call attention to yourself, all presences absent from the room. Moments pass, and no one comes, so you try again, calling out, "Hey, I need your help!" More silence follows, but within twenty seconds, you hear a door above you slam open, quick footsteps running down a nearby flight of stairs. A heavy silence fills the air as you hear boots hit the bottom step, and feel the gaze of the newcomer. Your friend is here, thank god.

"Dream...?" you hear Blue's voice say, shaky and concerned. "What happened?"


	4. For Him

##  **Part Four: For Him**

* * *

 

By the time you've finished explaining your poor state, Blue already has you wrapped in blankets and has served you tacos. His fussing had been a bit overwhelming, but you appreciate your friend very much for the care he has shown. Once he has deemed you well cared for, he sits next to you, being sure to give you space, but stay close all the same. You wonder what you would do without him, and aren't able to even imagine the answer.

Blue ponders what you've told him a moment, letting out a thoughtful hum. He eventually turns back to you with an eyebrow raised and frowns. "That seems very unlike you, Dream," he comments, crossing his arms. "If you knew you needed further investigation, why did you just stay there and allow yourself to get drained? That was irresponsible and dangerous!"

As he says that, you duck your head in embarrassment. He was right, that was very counterproductive. Noticing your body language, he eases up a bit sympathetically. His voice softens, and he relaxes his posture a bit. "Maybe I'm not understanding," he continues. "Please tell me what else happened, my friend. Why did you behave so abnormally?"

You tense up, unsure of whether to tell Blue how you had been feeling. He didn't know about the fight you had yesterday, and furthermore the hardest thing to admit is that it had a lasting affect on you. Blue would care, you're sure of that, but would he really want to know? When the team initially split, Blue had tried to keep things together, but in the end sided with Dream. How would he feel knowing you almost regret the decision you had made? It didn't seem like a pleasant conversation. Then again, this is your closest friend, and there is no way he would be angry at you for feeling any particular way.

While you have your mental debate, Blue leans back and continues to stare at you, letting out a nervous sigh. "Dream, if you don't tell someone what's going on, you're going to break," Blue utters with a soft tone, "In fact, it seems you almost already have."

Your eyes go wide, and you look up at him in surprise. "I-" you start, stuttering heavily. "I haven't broken! I-I'm not- Blue- it's n-nothing-"

He cuts you off with an unamused look. His mouth stretches into a frown, and he cocks his head slightly. "You aren't fooling me," he huffs, almost annoyed. "Normally, I would say it's up to you. I do value privacy. However, you're clearly not able to bottle it up any longer. Do you even notice how tired you look right now? You look like a wreck! I'm afraid I won't be allowing you to leave until you let me help you."

For a moment, you open your mouth to protest, but you shut it before anything comes out. If you are honest with yourself, you would benefit from confiding in your friend. You only wish that you didn't have to burden him with it. Despite that, you can tell he's firm in what he says, so you open up, figuring it's truly the only way. As you prepare to speak, your face heats up in utter shame.

"Well," you start, your voice uneven and shaking, "I encountered Ink yesterday." Seeing Blue's shocked expression, you stop for a few moments before continuing. "We had accidentally met up in an AU, and when things had gotten out of control, we had to work together. After that, he tried to talk to me, and he had just- forgotten why we had even fought in the first place!" You struggle to continue as you tear up in anger, clenching your fists. "He had just FORGOTTEN the kid he let die!"

Blue nods understandingly, and sighs, "Dream, you know Ink has memory issues. That's not entirely his fault."

"It seems awfully selective! He remembers us, right? Why not the kid!?" Blue stays silent, unsure of how to respond, so you decide to continue. "I blew up a bit, and I will admit fault for that, but when I was done, he tried to justify himself! I told him to leave. It was the right thing to do... but then I... felt regret? I felt... I felt as if I wish it had gone differently. That thought just... WON'T go away! I keep thinking about the conversation... I keep... FEELING something I don't understand... and I just can't focus!"

The small blue skeleton nods thoughtfully, glancing up at you. "You don't want to fight anymore. I get it."

Shocked, you rapidly shake your head. "I don't want to make amends! That would be awful! He's a murderer, Blue!"

"Are you sure?" he sighs, closing his eyes. "Listen, I'll take your word for it, but I really wouldn't rule it out. No one likes conflict, and especially not with someone they used to consider their closest friend. You wouldn't be at fault for wishing to mend the divide at least a little-"

He's cut off as you shout a retort. "I don't want to! That would be awful of me, awful and irresponsible! I can't be selfish- I'm- I'm not selfish Blue! I'm not going to be selfish!" Your cheeks burn with shame as you realize your outburst, and you sheepishly avoid Blue's gaze. Both of you sit there in an uncomfortable silence as you fiddle with the ends of your cape, regretting everything you said. Blue is the first to break the silence.

"Even if you were doing this to make yourself feel better, at the end of the day, isn't that still helping everyone?" He puts a hand on your shoulder comfortingly, and continues with a soft voice. "You need to feel well to help others. Having closure will allow you to perform your duties better. Besides, don't you always say that everyone deserves forgiveness? Why not Ink as well? Maybe if we show him kindness, we can avoid another tragedy."

As Blue's words sink in, you begin to feel a sense of calm. He does have a point. You had always tried to use forgiveness and kindness as a means to turn things around for the better. Why had that changed? Ink wasn't any different, albiet a bit difficult. Although what he had done had been a bit more personal, it didn't mean he should be treated differently. Besides, he HAD been your friend, and had helped you in hard times. Maybe Blue was right. Maybe you could try to work this out.

"Alright," you sigh after a moment, "I still may need a little while to cool down, but I will talk to him. You... you do have a point, Blue." The familiar sight of Blue's eyes lighting up greets you, and you can't help but smile a little. It really was a cheering sight to see Blue happy. Very suddenly, he hugs you, knocking you slightly off balance.

"Thank you!" he chirps happily, making you laugh nervously.

"What for? You seem oddly excited," you reply quietly.

"Well... if I'm being honest," he looks away, "I never really stopped feeling sad about the whole fallout. Sure, Ink had done awful things but... he was our friend... it hurt seeing things happen the way they did..."  
You stop and stare at Blue a moment. He had never gotten over it? Even after all this time? Well... then it was definitely time to fix it.   
Choking up, you pat Blue. "Blue, for the sake of both of us," you sigh, "I swear I will talk to Ink the next time I see him."  
He nods, continuing to hug you. "I know you will. I believe in you both." Without warning, you feel a slight dampness, only to look down and realize Blue is crying. It's clear this means so much to him. Since it is the case, you could not afford to let him down. Tightening your hug, you smile and allow yourself to tear up as well.

  
Both of you stay clung to each other like that for many minutes, until your arms grow tired. Finally, you pull away. "Alright Blue, I am very sorry to have bothered you, but I feel much better." You give him a smile and he gives one back. "Everything is going to be okay... and it's thanks to you."

  
A mischievous smirk stretches across his face. "Well of course it is! I am the Magnificent Sans, after all!"

  
Giving him a pat on the head, you nod happily. "Yeah, that's how I know to come to you," you look away, "Though I'll have to be going. I need to try and figure out how to fix this catastrophe going on across the multiverse."

  
Your friend nods understandingly, finally coming out of the hug himself. He puts his hands on his hips and gives you a confident look. "Alright, you had better do well," he winks, "because I know for a fact that you can." With a thumbs up, he sits back down on the couch. "I'm rooting for you!"

"Thank you," you say gratefully, "I'll be sure to visit." With that, you create a portal back to Haventale and hop through.

  
Alright, you have a mission. You are to figure out what Nightmare is up to, and stop it before it gets out of hand. With the issue involving Ink figured out, it should be a cinch. You would be able to focus. Walking back to your normal sleeping spot, your thoughts wander to possibilities and solutions. Your steps are brisk as you calculate in your mind the best course of action. The deep thought distracts you so much that you run into something, since you were unaware of your surroundings.

  
"Ouch!" cries out a voice as you both fall over. Recovering, you look up to have your eyes once again meet with Ink's.


	5. Control Is a Gift

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long! This chapter is short due to a lot of busyness on my end! I still hope you enjoy!

A breath catches in your throat once you recognize your visitor, surprise and resent bubbling up inside you. Sure, you had promised Blue you would talk to Ink... but right now? Either the world was pulling jokes on you, or you have the worst luck of anyone. You decide in your mind to go with the latter. 

 

Ink is wide-eyed as well, apparently not expecting the very sudden arrival. Perhaps he had still been planning what to say, or had only just gotten here himself? It does not matter, you two have a dire need to talk. You open your mouth to begin speaking to him, but soon find nothing can come out. It's not that you can't find the words; you just can't find the right ones. The outrage had not yet dissipated from your mind, and you dear you may end up losing control of yourself once more. Hell, just the feeling of relief at seeing him is enough to fuel more anger within you. 

 

Before you can even figure out what to do, Ink forces a smile onto his face, offering a hand to help you up off the floor. There is an air of nervousness to the guy, yet his face portrays himself to be as confident as ever. Swatting his hand away, you pull back, your eyes portraying an uneasiness resting deep within you. He nods and shrugs in reply, muttering something about understanding your reaction. Smartass.

 

"What are you doing here?" you finally muster, an unintentional harshness sneaking into your tone once more. Ink's nervousness spikes, but his face remains calm and indifferent. Without a word, he fishes through his pocket and places something cold and smooth into your hand. Cautiously, you look down, opening your hand to reveal two vials: one yellow and one blue. Your brow furrows as you look back up at him, a questioning glare plastered across your face.

 

"Paint, am I correct? Why are you giving me these?" you inquire, allowing your eyes to wander down to his sash, which appears to be missing a couple capsules of paint. No matter what, you can never tell exactly what is going through this lunatic's head.

 

"Isn't it obvious?" he questions, giving a slight smirk, "I figured if you think I'm dangerous with the power of artificial emotion, I figured you could help control it." He winks, beaming at you. "A pretty smart solution to your problem, no?"

For just a moment, you aren't exactly sure how to react to that. On one hand, he is trying to make things better. On the other, however, where is his motivation coming from? Your gaze flicks up to his face, a suspicious hostility residing within you even still. "Why would you have any reason to care? Why give me this? Why try to fix anything if you can't even feel remorse for the way things are?"

 

In response, he chuckles. "Dream... please... how long did you really think I could stay on artificial emotion before developing a morale of my own? I've only had, what, a couple hundred years to adjust to my condition, don't you think I'd figure out how to give a shit about something? I mean, if everything remained stagnant, don't you think I would eventually look for change? Come on bud, you know I hate boredom." 

 

Nothing breaks the silence that follows for several moments. You only look at him, noticing the sincerity of the way he states his case. Though unaware of it, you grip the vials tightly, feeling the surface of the glass carefully. Your eventual response comes hoarse and cautious.

 

"What exactly did become your ideals, if I am to believe you?"   
"Simple. I'll admit for a while I didn't grasp the concept of morale, but once I did, I only really had one thing aside from my own destiny to consider: my friends. You and Blue. The only ones who hadn't outcasted me."

 

If you are to be honest with yourself, you can't even decipher all the emotions that hit you at that moment. Confusion, hesitance, happiness, woe, fear, hatred, and so many more sensations stack on top of you. For just a minute, you take deep breaths, clearing your mind of all of them. When you do, however, one thought comes to mind. When had this even begun?

 

"Were you... following me when we had seen each other in the Aftertale? Had you planned that?" your eyes narrow, suspicion written all over your face.  
"Yup! Good catch," he replies, not a shred of regret in his voice. "I wanted to right the wrongs. I knew you'd tear my head off if I approached Blue behind your back so-"

"So you... followed me?" you growl.

 

Ink's face seems to grow a bit more concerned. "Hah... yeah... you um... really don't seem as happy about this conversation as I expected." A nervous laugh escapes his mouth as your intense stare locks onto him.

 

All this emotional tug-o-war you've been dealing with, all this self doubt you had, all the concentration issues, they were all part of Ink's plan, or at the very least, a result of it? Did he even know how much trouble this reminder of the past has been causing you? You doubt it, the idiot never tends to think before he does anything. People are out there without help because of Dream's personal struggles, and this was all Ink's doing? You will not stand for that.

 

You take a step towards him, your hold on the vials in your hand tightening. Your face tilts up to look at his, and you are met in turn with a surprised look in his eyes. You can even feel his breath on your face due to the lack of distance between you both. "Do you have any idea what you've done?" you ask him, a chilled tone to your voice.

 

"Something good?" he guesses nervously.

 

"You've caused nothing but trouble. Even when you try to fix things you only make them worse! Ink, I swear, I tried to be calm, I tried to stay fair, but this little idea of yours has only hurt the people I'm working to protect even more! Get out of here, and leave us alone!"

 

You regret the words that had slipped almost instantly. No, you don't want him to leave, not when you had agreed to talk for a reason. Suddenly, you come to realization that you are taking any chance you can get to lose your cool. Do you just want to stay mad at him? It doesn't seem like you to do so, and yet...

Ink, frowning now, nods. "Suppose I should leave in a hurry then," he replies in a dark tone. "Wouldn't want to try to help by making things unbearable."

The skeleton leaves just before you realize that you still have the vials in your hand. You had forgotten to give them back to him before he had gone. Not only that, but the promise you made to Blue rings in your head. Solemnly, you pocket the vials, not allowing tears to flow this time around. You can fix this. It isn't too late.

 

Stashing the vials into your belt for safe keeping, you make a resolution to yourself. You don't know when or where, but you know you will see Ink again some day, and when you do, you won't lose control of yourself. Not this time. This will not be how it all ends. No star sans or innocent monster would be left to a bitter existence. Your job is to make sure of it.

 

And clearly, your shift had just begun.


	6. Danger At Sea

****Chapter 6 ****

Your boots hit the polished wood floor of a ship as you reenter the world you had abandoned. The brothers from before are still on board, and as the clatter of your boots hangs in the air, they turn back to look at you. The smaller brother, unlike the taller, has eyes full of scorn aimed at you, and you struggle to keep eye contact in return. You walk forward, clearing your throat, displaying as much confidence as possible through your posture.

  
It had been a week since you had last been here, and that fact gnaws at your stomach with guilt. It's not as if you had wanted to be gone for so long, you had just needed to find your best course of action, and unfortunately, none of them were particularly ideal. Hell, half of the days you spent trying to come up with a solution, you had spiraled into a fit of rage at the nature of your being. Negativity being both your target enemy AND your greatest weakness felt like a sick joke. How were you supposed to fight something you couldn't physically be around? In the end, you settled that getting help where you hadn't wanted to was the only option.

"What, come to give us false hope again, then run like some sorta false prophet?" remarks the Sans, taking a step forward with nothing but hostility left in him, "The ocean is already nearly depleted, don't waste your breath."

  
Instead of flinching away or trying to placate the skeleton, you instead walk past him and cross to the edge closest to the portal. "No, actually, I came with backup," you reply bluntly, your face expressionless. While you didn't particularly care for the attitude thrown at you by the guy, it wasn't worth retaliating against, either. After all, he had a point. You had left them for an amount of time that couldn't be afforded.

The taller brother makes a move to say something in gratitude, but is cut off as the more hostile of the two storms forward, coming close to you to the point where your back is pressed against the side of the vessel. Your expression does not shift, despite the monster's slight height advantage, and you look up at him evenly. "I don't buy it, leave us be," he growls. Simply, you shake your head. His hands ball up into fists, and he grits his teeth. "What is your plan then, hm? What makes this time different?"

  
Almost immediately after the question is asked, a shrill laugh of excitement escapes the portal as Blue comes barreling through, landing on the floor of the ship with a thud and entertained laughter. A figure, very similar in appearance to most Sanses and marked with black streaks down his cheeks from what you could gather in such a short glimpse, follows from the portal, clearly tired from his pursuit after the more hyperactive foe. Blue turns on his heel and runs up to the figure who was now crouched, taunting him slightly while working to restrain him with ropes from the ship. The newcomer was Nightmare's most personal assistant, Killer.

  
It had all happened so fast, you were hardly prepared for it, let alone were the two captains on board. They stared in awe at the newcomers, and you could only imagine how many questions they might have. Those questions would have to wait, though. Shaking the shock from your mind, you walk up to the now-bound skeleton and look down with a hint of questioning. Your glance is met with a loathing expression and aura that you had not felt so strongly in a while.

"Blue? What is Killer doing here? You know wherever his right-hand man goes, Nightmare is sure to follow," you question, nudging the figure with your boot as he snarls in response. This was sure to be trouble. Blue was certainly trustworthy, but he also had a habit of spontaneous decision making, and in this case, it was likely trouble.

  
Blue nods in response to you, his eyes beaming with exhilaration. "I know! How are we going to fight Nightmare if he's where you can't face him? I'm trying to attract his attention!" he chirps, dancing on his feet, clearly relieved to be back in the thrill of adventure. Unfortunately, his mood dampens as you put a hand to your head and sigh. The working of his feet on the floor slows, and you are slammed with the likely intentional puppy eyes that Blue often got when disappointed.

"I'm not so sure we could fight him off if we needed to," you reply calmly, "and that may put the two onlookers on board into even more danger. Remember Blue, we want to do this with as little harm done as possible."

  
Looking at the two skeleton brothers, you notice their rigid posture and lost looks. Unfortunately, psychological trauma could be expected from so much exposure to alternate-selves that you are near positive the Sans had figured out by now. You curse under your breath at that fact, but pull yourself away from looking at the two and refocus on more important matters.

The skeleton replies with scuffing his boot on the floor and shrugging. "Yeah, maybe, but I only thought that- AAAH!"

  
A screech interrupts the thought as the teeth of the captured foe sink into Blue's leg, an angry glare on Killer's face. Evidently, he had wriggled his way closer to the skeleton while you two had been arguing over his very capture. As Blue hit the floor with a soft thud, the criminal takes the opportunity to grab a sharp bone from the belt of his opponent with his teeth and sink it into the ropes bounding his hand. The ropes snap with a sickening sound and the figure rises to his feet, glaring down at your friend.

  
Chuckles escape the villain at first, but then quiet into silence as he grabs the bones from his mouth and flips it in his hand, thinking to himself with a calculated demeanor.

  
You rush to Blue's side, calling out to the brothers to take shelter somewhere on ship while waiting for the danger to pass. Their footsteps fade into the depths of the boat as Killer only continues to stand in place and flip the bone in his hand, as if waiting for something. Surprisingly enough, he doesn't have his normal insanity about him, but he also seems oddly calm.

  
Shivers travel down your spine. This wasn't like him, and something you didn't understand was going on. If you didn't understand, then you were vulnerable. Vulnerability, well, to put it bluntly, was a large hazard.

  
Your bow materializes in your hand, and you prepare yourself for a fight, but before you can even bring the weapon in front of you, a dark presence appears behind you, slamming it's aura into your soul. Before you can so much as gasp, you are restrained, no longer able to lunge at Killer. When you look down, you see sickly, oily, black tentacles wrapped around your arms.

  
"Hello, brother," chuckles a dark, warped voice that almost seems to surround you from all sides. You feel Blue shake as he cries out next to you. Dizziness overwhelms you, and your attempt to clear your mind is cut short with a blow to your head that makes the world go dark.


	7. Within A Dungeon

Screaming. Crying. Loud, miserable noises pierce the air as your mind slowly wanders out of the dark of unconsciousness. Next to you, a person is wailing and yelling to be let free. No, not just any person, Blue, in fact. Wait.. where are you? You open your eyes slowly as your mind works to recollect what had happened before, and as you begin to remember, a migraine-like pain shoots through you, causing you to groan.

As soon as you do, the cries quiet down a bit, and Blue is staring straight at you, surprise and worry displayed on his face. The sound of chains jingling alert you that you are both chained to the wall, and you look to see Blue struggling to get free and get closer to you. “I was so worried!” he cries out breathlessly, “I thought you might have fallen down or gone comatose being locked up somewhere so negative! I thought I lost you- Dream- I was so damn scared!”

Your eyelights flick upwards to look at him while you attempt to smile. Despite your best efforts, your teeth remain clenched from the pain, so you settle for a shrug and a forced laugh. “Of course I’m okay, I couldn’t leave you here, could I? It’s my job to stay strong Blue, you know that!”

Much to your disappointment, Blue does not seem reassured. In fact, he looks downward and frowns, clearly trying display strength of his own with very little success. It’s a very hard thing for you to watch, but you didn’t want to look disinterested, so you continue to give an encouraging smile. This certainly wasn’t your first dance with danger, but somehow this specific time felt an extra bit… hopeless. Your only friend and you in captivity, chained like war prisoners. 

It appears that Blue is having the same train of thought, as he begins to sniffle a bit, not allowing tears to flow, but not able to keep calm either. Your aura only aches more with the added negativity, and you feel the world spin around you. Blue notices your predicament and only gets more upset, which in turn hurts you more. It appears you are both stuck in a vicious cycle of pain and misery, and you know your brother would absolutely love it.

A familiar cackle resounds from a dark corner of the room, and a cyan glow illuminated the area surrounding a black, tendril-laden figure. Oh, alright, so maybe he was currently enjoying it. 

“Welcome to my cavern, brother,” drawls the voice, it’s nature scratchy and so unlike the brother you once knew, “While I must admit I have a rather gorgeous base, I’m afraid we couldn’t fit you in a room, so I hope that these chains will do.” His voice raises with laughter and he takes a moment to recollect himself. His overpowering presence is almost enough to make you vomit, and you retch. All of this only continues to fuel him more and more.

“Hasn’t anyone ever told you not to play with your food?” you mumble, staring up at him, although at this point, your head is spinning too much for you to see him. Sure, maybe not the most enthusiastic response, but it was the only one you could think of. The irritating asshole only laughs in reply, seeming all too overjoyed by the suffering and annoyance of Blue and you. 

“Since when have I ever claimed to have grown up,” he replies with a snort, getting to his feet and walking up to you. As he nears, you get more and more dizzy, only seeing Nightmare as a blurry blue light. You feel something wet and oily brush your chin, and you involuntarily shudder. His tentacles have always been the thing that got to you most regarding his empowered form. “It’s funny to me though, because no matter how immature I am, I’m still boatloads smarter than you.”

That was an incredibly low blow, and it takes every bit of your strength not to scoff in utter mockery. “Where in the world did you get THAT idea?” you ask, rolling your eyes a bit, “What have I done to show any lack of intellect? That really came out of left field there, pal.”

The little amount you can see of Nightmare’s expression is enough to make you go cold. That look exactly mirrors the one he had the night before consuming the apples. It was an expression on danger. It read clearly, “I know something you don’t.”

A small growl rises in your throat as you kick and scream, chains jangling deafeningly behind you, and Nightmare cackles. This made you feel so angry, being helpless and ignorant. That’s what had gotten your mother killed, as well as your universe. Your screeching brings your brother no fear, only joy and hysterics. Finally, he answers the largest question in your mind.

“Ever wonder who convinced Ink to even come find you?” he questions with a low voice. 

Blue inhales sharply as you stop kicking in your tracks. Had Ink really betrayed them? Was he really that bad? Surely Nightmare was involved, seeing as how he even knew about Ink’s recent ploys to reunite with the team. You had only just forgiven him, and now he was already stabbing you in the back. The knowledge of it was enough to make you cry.

As soon as the tears begin to fall, you desperately wish you could have stopped it, your vision fading in and out. Blue nudges you and asks you a question, but you are too out of it at this point to hear or respond. All you can gather is that as you remain despondent, your friend grows hysterical, sobbing and desperately trying to snap you out of it. It’s all in vain, however, and you fall unconscious.

\---

When you wake up, you feel yourself bouncing, hoisted into the air in a way that you cannot remember. As soon as you look down, you get your answer. Brown fabric flaps below you, as well as the heels of two very brightly colored shoes. You realize someone is running with you in their arms, and not just anyone, but specifically Ink. The conflicting feelings that crash into you is stunning.

“Dream!” calls a voice, which you immediately look up to identify as Blue, “We’re safe! We’re getting you out of here, okay?” Blue is jogging alongside Ink, clearly in much better spirits now that escape was imminent. Maybe his happiness had woken you up, you aren’t quite sure, but at this point, it’s the thing least on your mind. All you want now is an explanation, specifically about Ink, preferably from Ink. 

“I know what you’re thinking,” chimes Ink, speaking for the first time since you woke up, “I will explain myself, but once we get to safety, okay? Just hang on.” For the first time in decades, you agree with Ink.


End file.
